


Binding

by inbetweenfractals



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Gen, Miroku-centric, but things end up okay in the end!, some suicidal ideation, some transphobia, trans!Miroku
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2019-09-06
Packaged: 2020-10-10 22:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inbetweenfractals/pseuds/inbetweenfractals
Summary: Miroku is bound in many ways, more than once: by the beads around his wrist, by his fear, by the secret he is compelled to keep.





	Binding

The words are like a ritual for him.

"Will you bear my future children?"

The words always make his companions groan. More than once, either Sango or Kagome have bopped him on the head, citing the youth of the woman or the strength of the come-on. None of them understand the great seriousness with which he says his ritual words.

"WIll you bear my future children?"

These words cement who he is. They make him a man, a lover of women, a somewhat lecherous but still honorable monk. Every time he says them, he makes himself again.

"Will you bear my future children?"

In truth, he is terrified at the thought of ever siring a child. Of failing in his quest and burdeing a child with the Wind Tunnel as he has been burdened. Of what being a parent would mean, for someone like him. Of letting anyone close enough to know why he is afraid.

He smiles with a practiced false innocence and lets his hand rest on the latest woman's lower back. He says those words, knowing full well he would refuse her if ever she came to him.

"Will you bear my future children?"

Sometimes, he wonders if Naraku knows. Certainly the demon would find a way to make the truth come out to the others, wouldn't he? And as soon as they knew, they'd leave him. And then he would face Naraku alone, as he must. Even Naraku could not survive the Wind Tunnel if it raged.

No one would. Not Miroku, not his - friends. But at that point, he would be well and truly alone, so that impossible chance of survival would not be a problem.

There would be nothing to live for, after all.

No friends, no future.

It is all so horribly inevitable.

The demon is too fast for him, and its claws are very sharp. It slashes his chest, his clothes and skin splitting open from one shoulder across to his waist.

"Ah, ah," he says distantly, as he feels the bindings underneath his clothes give way, as pain slices through him. Although he was thrown backwards by the blow, by the time Inuyasha has dispatched the beast, he is on his knees. He kneels, not praying but mouthing the words to a prayer, arms crossed over his chest.

As if that would prevent what would most certainly come.

It is Kagome who reaches him first. She falls to her kneews beside him, uncaring of the sharp rocks littering the groun. "Miroku," she says, reaching out. "You're hurt - "

He knocks her hand away, using the arm without the Tunnel.

"_Don't touch me!_" he screams, voice too high and shrill in his ears.

Only after he hears Inuyasha shout _Miroku, what's your problem??_ as if from a millison miles away, only after he sees Kagome's eyes widen, does he realize his mistake.

By his own action, the curve of his chest is visible to her. Gravity and rough movement and broken bindings have conspired against him, and one of his breasts has fallen forward. He knows she sees it, from the way her expressions shifts and she exhales a breathy _oh_.

Mirokue hurriedly bundles his arm to his chest again, trying to hide from what she knows now.

He will not cry. He will not cry. Men do not cry.

The only time he ever saw a man cry was his father, when he said goodbye to him for the final time.

He will not cry, not now. He will take their rejection and go to kill Naraku once they've left him, and he will do it like a man.

But Kagome doesn't do anything he expects, like scream or blurt his secret or push him away to be exposed before Inuyasha, Sango, and Shippou. Instead, she turns her back to him and extends her arms, like a shield. Like she's protecting him.

Miroku can't see her expression, not with her facing away from him, so he just stares at the back of her head in swiftly dulling confusion.

"I've seen this before," Kagome announces as the others approach. Miroku braces himself. "In my era. I can - I can treat it, but we're goign to need privacy. Absolute and total privacy."

"What, so was there some kind of poison in that demon's claws? I didn't smell it," Inuyasha says.

"Neither did I" Shippou adds.

Kagome hesistates, then says, "It's not a physical poson. It's something I can treat, like I said, but I need you all to go."

Miroku sways.

"Go?" Sango echoes. "When he is so badly hurt?"

"_Yes_," Kagome says, exasperation coloring her tone. "Seriously, you need to go now!"

"Are you sure you want us to leave you alone with _him_? He's a fucking lech."

Kagome sighs. "It will be fine, Inuyasha. But seriously, go. And go far. Don't stay in earshot."

The others grumble and protest, but the leave the two alone. Kagome turns, just in time to catch Miroku as he falls, blood loss and pain making him dizzy and weak. "Please, don't touch me," he mumbled into her arms. He can feel his blood soaking through his clothes and seeping into hers. "Stay - stay back."

She lies him gently on his back, taking care to keep his chest covered. He appreciates that small kindness, but doesn't understand it. Why did she not out him?

She steps away for a moment, but is back again before he can grow much more afraid, dropping her gigantic yellow backpack to the earth with a thud. "Sorry!"

Then, again, Kagome says, "Sorry." Miroku can see genuine apology in her eyes. "I need a good look at your wound to treat it. I am going to have to remove some of your clothing."

"No," he says, and he struggles to sit up, to inch away, to do something. But exhaustion overcomes him and he falls back down. "Please, please, don't touch me. Leave me be. Leave me."

"I can't do that. Look, Miroku, I really don't want to foce you. But you seriously need treatment. We have to stop the bleeding!"

He turns his head away so he can't see her face anymore. "Answer me one thing," he says dully, "And I will allow you to work. Why did you not tell the others that I was - that I am - that I am a - "

"A man?" Kagome says, and when he looks up at her, she smilles at him. "I have a friend from my era who I think is much like you. He's a guy, but most people know him as a girl. I told you, I've seen this before. I can'd do anything to change your body or anything, but I can try my best to understand."

"You understand?" And Miroku hates the fact that his voice sounds so small, so small.

"I can try. Now, will you please let me treat you?"

"Yes," he says, and turns his head away again.

Kagome refuses to replace the bindings on his chest. "This cloth! It has no give or stretch at all. Miroku, did you know you could seriously hurt yourself using these?"

"Perhaps," he mutters.

"Seriously! You could break your ribs or damage your organs. It's really bad!"

"What would you have me do then?" Miroku asks, fear edging his tone with spite. He immediately feels remose, as all she had done was be kind so far. But Kagome has the advantage of being from the future, where apparently people like were - no commonplace, exactly, but known. Did she really want to parade him in front of the others, exposed?

"Wear this for now," she says, throwing something at him. He unbundles the cloth to see what she calls a "hoodie." It is made from from thick but soft yellow cloth. "I need to go back to my era for a time. My friend, the guy I told you about, he binds his chest too, but in a much safer way. I'll ask him from his help, and I'll get a binder for you."

"Thank you," Miroku says, a little stunned.

"It's not a big deal," Kagome says. "You're in luck. On Kilala, we're only about half a day's travel from the well."

After that, there are the somewhat awkward processes of Kagome using a cord to measure the circumfrence of his ribs and of her helping him slip the hoodie over his head. Then, with her steady hand on his arm, they walk towards the way the others went, calling out for them periodically.

True to his word, Inuyasha and the others had truly gone out of earshot, so it takes over an hour to get to them.

Sango looks the most concerned when they arrive. "He's still not full treated?" she questions Kagome. "You have to go back to your own time?"

"Only for a few days. Let him take some time to himself while I'm gone, okay?"

Sango turns her gaze on him, expression unreadable, then says, "Okay."

It is three days before Kagome returns. During that time, Miroku is uncharacteristically moody, in part to keep the others from drawing too near. Kagome might understand, but the others? Never. Let him mend his clothes and receive this "binder" from Kagome. Then he would feel secure enough to handle whatever might come his way.

For now, let him snap, like a wounded beast.

When Kagome returns, Shippou cries, "Thank goodness you're back! Miroku has been unbearable!"

Kagome raises a questioning eyebrow at him, but despite his mild embarrassment, all Miroku says in response is, "It is not of anyone's concern but mine how I act."

"What he means by that," Inuyasha interjects, "Its that he's been acting more snippy and moody than a woman on her - "

"Sit, boy!"

"Argh!" Inuyasha snarls as he crashes into the ground. "What the hell was that for?!"

Kagome neatly steps around him. "PMS is no laughing matter," she says primly. "Come on, Miroku."

He follows.

Kaede lets them take her hut for a time, raising an eyebrow in question but saying nothing. Far be it for her to question the treatments of the future, Miroku supposes.

Kagome hands him a balck article of clothing, indicates that the front panel is the one that does not stretch, then turns her back to him to allow him to put it on.

And put it on he does, struggling a little with how the movement aggravates his wound and with the foreignness of the object. But when it is on, he cannot help but beam.

It is the flattest his chest has ever been since he matured, and yet it is somewhat comfortable, if only in comparison to the binding cloths he had used before. He marvels at the feel, presses his hands against his chest to feel only the barest curve of breast underneath.

"Kagome," he says, breathless. "How do I ever thank you enough?"

"Just be safe, okay? You're not supposed to wear it for longer than about eight hours, or during physical exertion. I know it's probably impossible, but try not to wear it too much. I also got you a sports bra. It won't compress your chest as much, but it is less likely to cause harm."

"Thank you," he says again, but the words are too small to hold all that he means by them.

And yet, Kagome appears to understand, for she smiles in a way that is just a little sad.

Years and years ago, when he first took the name _Miroku_, his mentor had warned him against ever revealing his true nature to others.

"I am far too old to care," he had said. "And besides, it is my duty to help you, no matter whether you are woman or man. But others have no such obligations. They will seek to harm you when they learn that you are not what they expect of a man. They will drive you away, they will kill you if they can. And not all killing blows are physical."

At this, his mentor gripped him by the shoulders. "Take care, so that you are not struck down by who you are."

At the time, Miroku had nodded dumbly, not fully understanding. But as the years passed and certain incidents occurred - he was seen as he bathed, or a woman got too close to him and realized what was there and not there - he learned.

Not all killing blows are physical.

The world wants him dead and gone, and if he ever accepts that, he might die by his own hand.

Some days, Miroku can't quite remember why that seems like such a bad thing. The world would never accept him. He could never be with anyone, not like how a man should be with a woman he loves. He would never be safe.

Wouldn't it be easier to let the Wind Tunnel swallow him up?

But he begins to fall in love.

Not romantically, for he is still too much afraid.

But with his friends, with the acceptance he finds with them. With the love they give him, some more gruffly than others. He wants to live, if only so he could stay with them for a little while longer.

But alas, not all such things are meant to last.

The demon smiles, all too knowing. "I can smell your secrets," it says, forked tongue tasting the air. "You are all afraid of the others knowing the truth of who you are."

Miroku tenses, gripping the prayer beads around his wrist. Kagome pales. Inuyasha snarls. Sango sets her mouth in a grim line and steps forward.

"You know nothing of me!" she declares, and hurls her boomerang towards the demon.

It slithers out of the way and laughs. "Oh, yes, I do. I know your fears. I know who you want. Who you should not want."

Sango nearly fails to catch her weapon as it arcs back to her. "You know no such thing!"

"Oh yes. But who has the most _delicious _secret? Is it you, demon slayer? Is it you, half-demon? Is it you, priestess girl? Or - " It turns red eyes on Miroku and laughs again - "Is it _you_, woman monk?"

Miroku feels that he cannot breathe. "No," he gasps. "I - I'm not - "

"I am never wrong," the demon chides. "And you are most delectably afraid. That fear, the way it tastes, mm, that is a most womanly emotion. You know they will leave you, once they realize you merely pretend to be a man."

"_SHUT UP!_" Miroku roars. And though he can see the poison miasma dripping off the demon in thick rivulets, he unleashes his Wind Tunnel. The demon screams and laughs and then it is gone - and he closes the Wind Tunnel and falls to his hands and knees. He is instantly nauseous, and he is unsure if it is from the poison or the way the demon exposed him.

He can hear Inuyasha shout _He's been a girl the whole time??_ and he can hear footsteps. He looks up to see Kagome and Sango rushing towards him, the latter still with her weapon in her hand.

Miroku crawls backward, feeling sick and pathetic, gagging and gasping. He raises a shaky arm, the one with the Wind Tunnel. "Stay - stay back - I - I will - "

But he doesn't finish the sentence. Even as terrfied as he is, he would never use his Wind Tunnel on people he loves. He would die - he would be killed by them - before he ever did such a thing.

His body rebels against him, and he falls to his elbows and vomits. The bile stings his hands where it touches them.

"Miroku, oh, you idiot," Kagome says as she kneels beside him. She rubs his back in a comforting manner. "You knew the poison would harm you."

Shippou asks from Kagome's shoulder, "Why didn't you want us to know you were a woman?"

Sango's weapon falls to the ground as she kneels beside him as well. She places a hand on his shoulder. "You fool. Did you think we would judge you? I know what it's like to prove yourself as a woman, you know I do."

Miroku gags again, panicked.

"He's not - " Kagome starts, but he raises a hand to stop her. He doesn't know what ot do. Does he accept the seeming-truth they apparently have accepted, or does he tell them the real truth, the one that will make them hate him? He craves their acceptance so desperately. It seems that he only has one path out. 

He just doesn't know if he can bear to be called _woman_.

"I am - " he starts, then stops. Then, honestly, he says, "I have never known how to explain myself to others."

"It's okay!" Shippou chirps. "You can always be yourself around us!"

"Yes," Miroku breathes, but he does not look anyone in the eye.

As Miroku recuperates, the barrage of questions seems never ending.

_So the bear my children thing, is that just a weird act?_

_Wouldn't you rather be wearing more feminine clothes?_

_Look, it's just us women here. Why do you still hide yourself?_

_What is your true name, then?_

_How long have you been hiding your true self?_

_Why did you never tell us?_

Only Kagome says nothing about it, just looks at Miroku as unhappily as he looks at her. Her silence doesn't go unnoticed, as the others begin to realize that she had known before them. They begin to ask her questions too, but she stubbornly refuses to answer.

The only question Miroku absolutely will not answer, not with a lie or a deflection or an obfuscating truth, is that of what his name had been. What it really is. He considers that name dead, belonging to a little girl who had never really existed. He doesn't want to be called that ever again, doesn't want to hear those he loves call him that.

If he is called by that name, he thinks he really will die.

The weeks pass. Miroku grows sullen and withdrawn. He has not forgotten that the others got away with their secrets intact. Sometimes he wishes he had not killed the demon as he had, because then maybe he would have some plausible deniability, or perhaps the others would feel as he did.

But does he really want any of of them to feel as he does?

Constantly, constantly misgendered. Inuyasha now tries to leave him with "the girls" during battle. Sango asks why he still refuses to bather with her and Kagome. Shippou tries to cheer him up by pointing out pretty, feminine fabrics int he villages they pass through.

Kagome looks at him with understanding, but she does not try to correct the others, for that is not his wish, and thus is not her place.

Miroku finds that as time passes, he has to bite his tongue more and more to prevent from indulging in little cruelties. Like emphasizing Inuyasha's weaknesses, or saying something sharp to make Shippou cry. His patience for Sango's grief diminishes. Even with Kagome, he finds that he has to keep from making a cold remark. It's just - he so angry and unhappy all the time.

And worse, there will never be an end to it. Not until he separates from their little group. And that will likely only happen once Naraku is dead.

Miroku remembers what he had planned to do should the others reject him. He would find Naraku himself and unleash the Wind Tunnel in such a way that he could not close it, and Naraku could not escape.

The idea only grows more attractive by the minute.

At last, swallowed by his own wind, he would be free.

It is a quiet night after a long day of fighting when he finally chooses to leave. The others are all sound asleep. Kagome's jewel shard is on a delicate chain around her neck. It is short but careful work to remove the jewel from its chain.

With this, he knows, the dark power of his Wind Tunnel will be unstoppable.

_I must be free_, he thinks as he takes his leave, walking into the dark night alone.

It is not him that find Naraku, but Naraku that finds him. The power of Kagome's large jewel shard must call to the other shards in the demon's possesssion. The jewel longs to be whole, after all, just as he does.

"All by yourself, are you?" Naraku says. Oddly, it _is _him, not a demon puppet. Perhaps Kagome's shard was too large for him to trust any minion with its retrieval.

"I am enough, Naraku," Miroku spits. "I shall be the end of you!"

He places the jewel shard on the back of his hand, embedding it into his skin. As he does so, he feels a sharp pain and a rush of power, the wind howling in his ears. It is so loud that he cannot hear what Naraku says in response, if anything.

Nor does he hear his former comrades arrive.

The wind sings, and he laughs with it as he begins to unwind the prayer beads from his arm.

The Wind Tunnel opens.

He can't see, can't feel anything but the odd full/not full sensation he always feels as the world around him is sucked inside the Wind Tunnel. Even so, he will know when Naraku is sucked in, as the demon's great youki will finally disappear from this world. The wind roars and he roars with it as the hole in his palm opens wider and wider.

It is a race against time: who will be sucked in first, Miroku or Naraku?

And then, light fills his vision. Pain strikes his hand. The jewel shard embedded in his skin is knocked out and falls, and he has just enough presence of mind to wrap his beads around his wrist before the jewel is sucked in.

He turns to see Kagome, bow still raised but the arrow already released. "You," he says, disbelieving. "You stopped me. But why....?"

He steps towards her, but his legs give way beneath him. He crumples, suddenly feeling hollow without the power of the jewel. As he hits the ground, he hears someone say from a long way off, _We couldn't let you kill yourself. Not like this. Not because of us_.

And then his eyes roll upward, and Miroku is gone.

_"You'll be a fine woman one day," his father says, tears in his eyes. "I wish I could live to see that."_

_"Father!" he cries. "No! Please, please don't go!"_

_"I must. If I stay, I will take you with me as I die. I could not bear for that to happen, my daughter."_

He can feel tears drip down his face, but the angle is wrong. They are falling sideways, away from his eyes. He's lying down. Why is he lying down? He was standing, clinging to his father's legs before he pulled himself away.

And then, he remembers. The sacred arrow, his desperate plan.

He had just wanted to be free.

"Miroku?" Sango's voice. "You're crying."

Oh. So he is. He doesn't move though, hoping against hope she'll leave.

But she doesn't leave.

The minutes pass, becoming an hour, then two, then three. The tears dry on his cheeks, leaving them feeling tight. Miroku continues to lie in stubborn silence, eyes firmly closed, listening for the sound of Sango leaving.

But she doesn't. She continues to keep her vigil by his side.

Finally, unable to bear a moment more of waiting, he opens his eyes.

"Miroku!" Sango says. "So you are awake."

"Please, please go," he rasps, unwittingly echoing those words he spoke to his father so long ago: _please, please don't go._

Sango just shakes her head. "After the stunt you pulled? We're going to keep an eye on you." She pauses, then says,"After everything, if you don't want it to be me, I understand. I can call Kagome in, if you would prefer it be here."

"Leave!" He tries to say it forcefully, but the word comes out as a croak.

Sango bites her lip. Quietly, she tells him, "I am sorry, you know."

Miroku turns his head away. 

"Kagome told us, after we realized you had left. She was angrier than I've seen her in a long time. She kept your secret even though it was hurting you, but I don't think she could bear to remain silent any longer. She did also want to apologize for that, for telling us."

Miroku says nothing.

"I wish you had just explained it to us," Sango continues. "I always saw you as a man, always thought of you that way. Even after the demon, it was strange. I would have thought that when we accepted you still, you'd be - you'd be happier. But you grew sadder. Darker. I just wish we had known the truth sooner."

"Of course you do," Miroku says flatly, turning a cold eye on her. Now that you know the truth about me, you don't have to - to care. You just want to keep an eye on me now to make sure I don't steal the jewel shard again."

"That's not it at all!" Sango raises her fist as if to hit him, but when he cringes away, she lowers her hand. Miroku grits his teeth, hating himself, his weakness, and his fear bitterly. "That's not - that's not it at all."

"Oh?" Miroku says, still in that flat tone. He doesn't dare hope. He doesn't dare.

Sango sighs, and folds her hands in her lap. After a long moment, she says simply, "Miroku, I recognize you for the man that you are."

He stares at her, jaw slack. He collects himself quickly and blurts, "You don't!"

"I do," Sango insists. "As does Inuyasha and Shippou. We all do. When Kagome explained to us that you are a man who was not born as one nor raised as one, it did seem a little strange at first. But we live in a world where a man may become a demon, so why not a woman a man? And it made so much sense for who you are. How, despite the attitudes and airs you put on, you always seemed so reserved in truth. And it explained why you changed as you did, after the incident with the secret demon. We were worried for you, you know."

Miroku feels the tell-tale prickling of tears in his eyes. He scrubs at them with one sleeve, willing himself to stay under control. "I - " he starts, then stops. He has to swallow a couple times before he can say, "I don't understand. You - do you actually want me to - to stay?"

Sango smiles at him, and it is like dawn breaking after a long night. "Of course we do! You're our comrade, our _friend_. We care about you."

"But I'm - " and again he stops himself. He shakes his head. Why question this acceptance, when it could all so easily disappear? Why psuh it away, when it was so likely to dissipate like mist in morning?

In the end, all he can think of to say is _thank you_.

Once he is no longer so weak fromt he toll the jewel and the widening of the Wind Tunnel had take on him, Miroku decides to have an honest conversation with the others. They sit around a cheerfully crackling fire that night, flames dancing on their faces, as he struggles to find adequate words.

"Eighteen years ago, I was born a girl. Despite this, as my father weakened, the Wind Tunnel began to form in my hand, even though it is only meant to be passed down to male descendants. A little while after my father was swallowed my his Wind Tunnel, I took on the name Miroku and trained to become a monk. My mentor expalined to me that I would be in danger if anyone learned of my past, and a few experiences I had only reinforced that understanding.

I never wanted to be deceptive. I consider myself...an honest man. But as I came to travel with you, I grew more and more - I was - afraid. I feared telling you. I thought, if you learned the truth, then you would chase me away. It was not that I distrusted you any more or less than I mgiht another, but as I came to consider you friends, the thought of having to leave grew incrediby painful.

"But once you began to believe that I was a woman, I began to realize I would have to leave. I could not bear to stay. It is hard to explain, but every time I am thought of as anything other than a man, I feel it like the blade of a sword cutting into my flesh. And that it was my friends who wielded this blade against me - I could not bear it.

"And so I chose to destroy Naraku - and - well, and myself - once and for all. But you came, and not just for the shard I stole. You came to stop me from killing myself to kill him. I - I don't know if I thank you for that yet.

"For now, though? For now, if you will have me, I will stay. If you will accept me for who I am, I can stay."

After this speech, Miroku studies the fire intently. He does not say that if they cannot accept him for who he is or if they want him gone, he will go. And he will go to Naraku to kill him, despite not having the jewel shard, despite not feeling assured that he would succeed. He will go, because without his friends, there is no future for him.

"Keh." Miroku looks up at Inuyasha, who weats his typically irritated expression. "Of course we'll have you. You're decent in a fight."

Kagome kicks him in the shin. 

"Ow! Fine, okay. And cause we like you, man."

"Yeah!" Shippou adds. Without a hint of Inuyasha's embarrassment, he continues, "We like you a lot, Miroku!"

"Yes, Miroku," Sango says. He looks at her, to see her with a somber expression. "We want you with us. You're important to us."

Kagome claps her hands. "That settles it, then! We want you to stay with us."

Miroku doesn't know what to say. He just buries his head in his hands, and for the first time in a long time, he sobs.

Miroku finds that, in the following weeks, several things change.

For one, the others make an effort to refer to him by his name constantly, a marked difference from they had avoided it, thinking that he was hiding his preferred, female name.

Inuyasha treats him as a comrade in arms again.

Shippou sometimes calls him big brother.

Sango and Kagome no longer groan at him asking women to bear his children, unless he comes on too strongly, in which case they whack him.

Miroku feels lighter than he had for months. He smiles more readily than he had for years.

Soon, he realizes he no longer wants to join Naraku in the grave. Instead, he finds that he'd much rather dance on it.

For the first time in - forever, it seems, Miroku feels accepted and even loved. He feels known.

At last, he feels free.


End file.
